One Day
by Azar443
Summary: Love, like the soft wave upon the sands will chip away at the final writings that decree the rulings of life.


**Dedicated to my wonderful FF twin Arya Tindomiel. Do enjoy.**

* * *

He stared at the dagger floating before him, ready to pierce through his heart at a careless wave of her hand. His hands were steady as he reached out towards her, the one woman who could make him beg and plead on bended knees with no regard for his pride and status as King. And so he pleaded, _begged_ her to listen to him.

"Morgana, _please_, you can still turn back."

The raven haired sorceress stared back at him, contempt and hurt clear in the cool green of her gaze as she took in the sight of the man she once swore she would give everything for. Until he ran off with her maid, that is. Her lip curled, how pathetic of him, to beg like a spineless _dog_ before her, to make her _see the light_. Oh she saw all right, and all she saw were the fires and blades that consumed her people and their blood as their innocent souls shrieked in the massacre. She saw the cold unfeeling eyes of the knights of Camelot as they carried out Arthur's orders, _his _orders without any shred of mercy or pity.

"I'm afraid it's too late, Arthur dear. By the way," she smiled brightly, and for a moment she was the Lady Morgana once more, beloved ward of Camelot and the Queen the people always wanted but never had, "How _is_ dear Gwen? I hear she's calling herself Guinevere now." She shook her head mockingly, a pout gracing lips that used to be coloured with rouge. "How… _sweet_ of you. I never thought that you'd be one to go against your father's orders, Arthur." She smirked, a vicious curl of a lip that cut through Arthur worse than a thousand blades or Gwen's betrayal did. "How _proud_ your father must be. His son and heir to the throne, wed to a lowly servant. Tsk." She shook her head pityingly and Arthur in a brief flash of desperation felt he had let her down, disappointed her somehow.

Her cool green gaze searched his own sapphire orbs, searching for some semblance of the man she once loved, and still love. "You could have done so much better for yourself Arthur." A sad smile flitted across her lips for a second, "And instead you have by your side a woman who would never challenge you, fighting for you to be a better man. Instead you have a mindless doll, pretty, but _empty_." She spat viciously, pain at being abandoned for the one she once considered her friend and companion. "She can _never_ be the queen you want Arthur. _Never_."

The blonde king sighed, no longer caring if the dagger struck him down. "I would've married you Morgana." He wasn't angry at her accusations of his wife. He knew it was the truth, knew that he only married Guinevere because she was _there_. Morgana wasn't, and he couldn't leave the throne empty without heirs or stand-ins. Guinevere wasn't Morgana; never was and never will be.

Morgana's green eyes flashed bright amber as rocks crumbled from the cave walls, shattering as her power crashed them into fine, infinite powder. "You lie."

Arthur spread his hands wide open, resigned. He had no reason to lie, not now and never to her. "You were ever only the one I'd consider my queen Morgana; you _are_ my queen." His light blue eyes glittered as they pleaded with her conflicted emerald gaze, "It was only ever _you_. Not anyone else, not even Guinevere."

Her pale hand went to grasp her throat, struggling to breath as she gasped and winced at the burning sensation clutching at her heart. She couldn't believe, she just _couldn't_. He _lied,_ they _all_ lied. Not one of them had cared when she had been so frightened by her powers, when she was so alone with no one in the world to explain to her that she wasn't a monster. No one cared when Merlin poisoned her, when Morgause took her away to save her, and no one gave a _damn_ when Sarrum held her captive like a _dog_ with her poor Aithusa, crippled and blinded and hurt. No one cared when she stayed with her beautiful familiar, soothing the pained creature for _two damned years._ No one cared; not even _him_.

Morgana flung her hand away, and the dagger flew to embed itself harshly between the cracks of the rocks. Green fire spat and burned in her eyes, colour rushing to her cheeks as she struggled to keep the tears and hurt and pain from welling. "Get out. _Leave_."

Arthur was stunned. _She was letting him go._ Her back was turned against him, her frail body shaking as she fought to maintain her cold façade. He could kill her, one blow to her heart and it would all be over. Camelot would no longer be plagued by her attacks and he would rule Albion as he was meant to. His hand went to his sword, fingers playing with the golden gilded pommel of Excalibur. He always wondered where Merlin had obtained such a marvelous weapon, but something seemed to hold him back every time he wanted to question his manservant. Perhaps there were better things left unsaid.

Morgana jumped when two strong, warm arms wrapped themselves tightly around her midsection, and she fought to release herself, even as Arthur tightened his hold and whispered comforting murmurs in her ears, soothing the wounded soul within the broken body of a woman who had seen far too much of the cruelties of the world and betrayal and heartbreak.

He rested his head against her black hair, as soft as ever as her struggles weakened and stopped altogether. "It's all right, Morgana, I'm here now. You're safe." He stroked her slim waist gently, sighing as he felt her sag tiredly against him, a slight whimper the only sign of surrender that the proud woman would give. But it was enough.

_Safe._ It was a word Morgana had not heard nor understood for so long, not after years of running and hiding and plotting to keep her and her people safe. It had become such a foreign concept to her that to even speak the word felt strange on her tongue as she tried whispering it. _Safe_. How strange, that being safe meant being ensconced in his arms as he shielded her from everything in the world that burned and hurt and cut and butchered and enslaved. It meant being _with_ him as he fulfilled his destiny as the Once and Future King.

Tears slipped down her face unbidden as she closed her weary eyes and gave herself up to him. "I should have been your Queen Arthur, I should have been the one standing by you as you rode out for wars and treaties and balls. I should have been the one presiding with you as you carried out council meetings and made your laws and decrees. I should have been the one lying by your side when you returned to your chambers in the night, comforting you as the weary toils of being King weighed you down." A bitter sob forced its way out of her parched throat. "It should've been _me_, not Guinevere."

He swallowed thickly, nestling against her soft frame hardened by years of loneliness and hardships and bitter letdowns. "I'm so sorry Morgana. It should have been you."

They remained silent as they basked in the rare moment of reconciliation and love neither had the luxury of _having_ in so many years, content to just be Arthur and Morgana, two ordinary people very much in love and yet being thrown apart by the universe and it's laws and rules. There was no crown nor kingdom nor queen to return to, nor were there battle plans or plots or spells to create or learn as High Priestess and sorceress. There were only two hearts beating as one as the blood that flowed through them thundered along their veins and rushed towards each other in a binding of love and body and soul that was more ancient and eternal than the meaningless words of a marriage vow half-heartedly spoken as Arthur decreed a woman he considered stranger than strange to be his wife and queen. There was love and only love, no thoughts of consequence or repercussions or lash backs at what would be. Only Arthur and Morgana remained, and Arthur and Morgana there ever shall be.

A soft croon brought the two out of their hazy clouds full of unfinished dreams and yearnings, and Morgana turned to look affectionately at her beloved Aithusa. The dragon's kind eyes were filled with pity and alarm as she nosed her mistress's hand lovingly, warning her of impeding enemies marching on towards her. The High Priestess caressed her white head in gratitude and turned regretfully to the man she loved.

"Your knights are near, Arthur and I'm afraid I must leave." A heartbreakingly sad smile graced her lips as she cupped his face in her hands reverently, "Once again, we are divided by our people and destiny. I must leave now."

He caught her hand in his, bringing it close, over his hotly beating heart. He stared deep into her eyes, his intense gaze cutting deep into her very core, leaving her shaken and trembling and wanting _him_. "Promise me Morgana, that one day you _will _return to me. Swear to me."

She laughed slightly and kissed his lips, their first and regretfully, last kiss. She caressed his forehead in blessing and whispered to him, close and intimate and warm. "I swear Arthur, that I will return. Even if it means crossing the borders of life and death and fighting against all who stand in my way, I _will_ find my way back to you, my love."

Arthur grinned and kissed her hand, bowing low to the Queen that she was, crown or no crown. "Till then, my Lady."

She curtsied, black gown brushing the dusty grounds as she bid goodbye to her King. "Till then, my Champion."

And with one longing glance back to the other they had left behind, both left, Morgana with her faithful Aithusa and Arthur back to his knights. One day, they _would_ find their way back, for destiny may be set in stone, but love, like the soft wave upon the sands will chip away at the final writings that decree the rulings of life, and one day, _one day_ they _will_ find their way back once more. And home will be shining with joy and warm welcome when they do.


End file.
